Monday, November 30, 2009


I've decided to restart my blog after multiple prods from sources that shall remain unknown so that they don't revel in the satisfaction of knowing that they succeeded in their attempts to create a change in my otherwise lackadaisical existence. That, and I have too many things on my mind which need to be unloaded. Things have changed. I'm still trying to figure out whether for the better or for the worse. Suddenly, it's like I'm not backstage anymore, I've been pushed out onto the stage, in full limelight. Ready to act my part. But the problem is...I don't really know my lines. And improvisation was never my forte. Hence the state of quandary which perpetuates my every thought these days. And the need for release. And this new post. Now, to organize things in my mind.
I don't believe in love. That was my main thing in life for a very long time. It still is in fact. Talking to married couples who can't bite back their cynicisms regarding the whole institution of marriage, so many dissatisfactory marriages, so many's bound to leave an impression. When the only true love story you see is in a movie, it's tough to believe that they still exist when the real life examples don't have the same results. Sometimes I think the reason Shakespeare killed off Romeo and Juliet is because, if they had gotten the chance to consummate their love, and get married and all that, the magic would surely have disappeared. The charm of their love would have worn off eventually. Perhaps they, too, would become like every other squabbling couple on this planet. Imagine her telling him to not keep his sword lying around the house, or him arguing with her for not stuffing the pheasant they way he likes it. Maybe Shakespeare thought that the message of the play would be better enunciated if the lovers died as that, as lovers.
This cynicism scares me. Recently, I had an eye opener of a discussion with one of my friends (btw, trust me, this does NOT happen often) and I realized that, holding on to this belief that love doesn't exist, I was digging my own grave. This tough exterior, besides shielding what's on the inside, is also keeping me from realizing that maybe there IS something out there that's close to love. If not the Disney kind, then atleast the normal, human kind. The belief is probably a result of commitment-phobia, that stupid fear of trusting anyone lest they hurt us.
I've started thinking things over now. I'm giving this whole love thing a chance. I'm dusting off the old spiderwebs. Let's see what they uncover.

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